


The Plisetsky Inheritance

by Eriskay



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Basically this can be read as either romance or friendship for Otayuri, Con Artists, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Yuuri, Deception, Detective Viktor, M/M, Mystery, Not very scary, Private Investigators, Romance, Surprisingly humorous, so you get to choose your own adventure, white lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriskay/pseuds/Eriskay
Summary: Five years ago, private investigator Viktor Nikiforov came to Detroit in search of one Yuri, but stayed for another. Now, an urgent letter from Moscow forces Viktor to face his past mistakes, and maybe even question facts he had long since determined to be true. Why is it that Yuuri,hisYuuri, won’t trust Viktor with more than a first name and the promise of tomorrow? And is it mere coincidence that Otabek Altin, an infamous black-market antiquities dealer, is back in town right before the opening of a much-anticipated Russian jewellery exhibit?And perhaps the most important question of all – is Yuri Plisetsky, heir to the Agape Estate as well as the entire Plisetsky family fortune, still alive after all?





	1. Chapter 1

It was a relatively small office, with only two desks, both of which were hopelessly cluttered with a myriad of files and folders and day-old coffee cups. The desks were placed right in the middle of the room, each directly opposite the other. Along one wall was a row of filing cabinets, and another was taken up almost entirely by a large bulletin board. There were small clusters of notes and pictures on the board, formed around different headlines – ‘The Long-Lost Crispino Sibling – Real or Not?’ had an unusual number of notes surrounding it, as did ‘Four Continents, One Smuggler’.

Right in the middle of the board was a headline that was larger than all the others, yet for some reason there weren’t many notes gathered around it.

‘The Disappearance of Yuri Plisetsky.’

The only bulletins attached to this headline were a chronological list of events, and a picture. A picture of a young boy.

Viktor was seated at his desk, going through some files from an older case in the hope of finding a lead on their suspected smugglers. Chris had gotten up to stand over by the window, sipping a cup of coffee and reading something on his phone. Every now and then, he would check his watch for the time.

“It’s 14:54. He should be here soon.”

“I know,” Viktor said, not looking up from his papers. “Come away from the window.”

Chris frowned, yet he still did as Viktor said.

“You know, we could at least try to dig up _something_ on this guy,” he suggested as he sat back down. “It’s not like he’ll know what we know. And you’ve got to admit that you’re curious, about him.”

“Of course I’m curious,” Viktor replied calmly. “But isn’t it more important that we gain his trust?”

“You’ve been saying that for over five years.”

“Four years and three months,” Viktor corrected immediately. “And it’s worked out pretty well, so far. You know perfectly well that we couldn’t have solved half of our cases, without Yuuri’s intel.”

“You give him too much credit,” Chris disagreed. “And I really think he owes you a bit more, in return for your… Discretion.”

“Yuuri doesn’t _owe_ me anything.”

“Oh yeah? We know for a fact that he associates with practically every criminal network in town, yet we’ve never reported him. And even after all this time, he won’t give you his number, or his address, or _anything_.”

Viktor sighed, setting his papers down.

“Yuuri and I have an understanding,” he said, facing Chris directly now. “I don’t interfere with his business, and he helps us with ours. It’s not a bad arrangement for either party.”

“Right, because that’s all this is – a _business_ _arrangement_.” Chris rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “At least try to be smart about this, Viktor. I’ve always had a really bad feeling about that kid.”

“He’s not a _kid_. Besides, Yuuri has never once given me reason to-“

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

Immediately, Viktor smiled.

“Would you care to open for our guest, Chris?”

Chris glared at Viktor in response, clearly annoyed and most likely nowhere near finished with their discussion. Yet for some reason, he still walked over to open the door.

“Ah, Yuuri. Right on time.”

“Hello, Chris.”

Yuuri calmly made his way into their office, his steps careful yet his smile bright. He was wearing his usual dark blue jacket and a simple backpack. There was something rather hesitant in his manner as he adjusted his glasses, yet the look in his brown eyes was very sharp. Still, Viktor would never have guessed that this man was a notorious criminal, one who had managed to stay hidden in the shadows for years.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s smile softened. “It’s good to see you.”

Viktor easily returned his smile.

“And you. You didn’t get caught in the rain?”

“No. I was in a meeting, all morning.”

“In a meeting,” Chris echoed, his question unspoken.

Yuuri merely smiled.

“Please, have a seat,” Viktor offered quickly. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

The three of them sat down. Chris fiddled with his pencil, watching Yuuri intently. Viktor, on the other hand, followed Yuuri’s gaze across their bulletin board.

“Well?” he prompted after a moment, politely curious. “Any news?”

Yuuri hesitated only briefly, before nodding subtly towards the cluster of bulletins concerning the smugglers.

“There’s a ship that will make port in Providence, two days from now. The cargo is… Classified.”

“What ship?” Chris asked, already writing rapidly.

“The MS Lambiel. Dock FS-162.”

“And what _is_ the cargo?” Viktor wanted to know, leaning forwards a little.

Yuuri shook his head lightly.

“That’s all I can share. There are difficult circumstances, this time.”

“Right,” Viktor said, nodding in understanding. “Thank you, Yuuri. This should help us a lot.”

“Looks like we’ll be placing a call to the Massachusetts State Police,” Chris said, looking over towards Viktor. “Did we ever work with them before?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Viktor mused. “Should be interesting.”

“Let’s hope they’re not too suspicious of private investigators. Remember Maryland?”

Viktor grimaced, nodding.

“Hopefully, this will go a lot smoother.”

“Right.” Chris closed his notebook, glancing from Yuuri to Viktor. “So, if that’s all I think I’ll… Step outside. For a bit. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Viktor cleared his throat lightly.

“All right. I’ll see you later, then?”

“You certainly will.” Chris got up, barely smiling towards Yuuri. “And I suppose you’ll be here, tomorrow?”

“I suppose I will, yes,” Yuuri agreed pleasantly.

Chris nodded once more towards Viktor, before silently making his way out of the office. As soon as the door had closed, Viktor took Yuuri’s hand in his.

“Hey,” he said, his tone warm.

Yuuri’s smile looked somehow gentler than before, and there was no mistaking the deliberate way he let his fingers thread together with Viktor’s.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I’ve missed you.”

Yuuri laughed softly.

“I was here yesterday.”

“That’s right. You were gone a _whole_ day.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand lightly. “It’s a shame you can’t always be here, with me.”

“Some of us have actual work to do.”

“Hey, I work,” Viktor protested. “We’re about to catch those smugglers, remember?”

“No thanks to me, I imagine?” Yuuri wondered, his tone cheeky.

“I guess you’ve helped,” Viktor allowed. “A little.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, yet he was still smiling.

“So,” he said casually, making a general gesture towards the bulletin board. “Any news on the case?”

This question might have been confusing to anyone else, but to Viktor it was crystal clear. Because while he and Chris worked on many cases, there was only one they referred to as _the_ case. It had been one of Viktor’s first, yet despite the fact that five years had passed it had never actually been resolved. Viktor had first come to Detroit in order to follow up on their most important lead. That was when he had meet Chris, another investigator who was looking for a partner at the time, and together they had opened _Nikiforov & Giacometti – Confidential Investigations_. Viktor had stayed in Detroit, eventually meeting Yuuri, and he wasn’t at all displeased with how things had turned out, in the end.

Still – the case remained unsolved. And to Viktor, it wasn’t just _any_ case. It was personal.

Yuri Plisetsky had been a friend of the family.

At the time, Yuri had been twelve years old. He had left for school on a Thursday morning, at exactly 07:36, but when the bell rang at 08:00 he still hadn’t arrived. The teacher had called home, where a member of the staff had assured her that Yuri was on his way and would most likely only be a few minutes.

An hour later, when Yuri still hadn’t turned up, the teacher had alerted the police.

A frantic search had ensued. Because while the neighbourhood in question was usually free from such incidents, the considerable wealth in the Plisetsky family had made everyone assume the worst. Yuri’s mother had found herself impatiently waiting for the supposed kidnappers to make contact, so that she could proceed with paying whatever ransom was needed and settle the whole affair.

No such message ever came.

After about a month had passed, Yuri’s mother had hired Viktor to look into the disappearance of her son. As a close friend of Yuri’s grandfather Nikolai and a very discreet investigator, Viktor had been the obvious choice – he had personally met Yuri several times and already knew much about the circumstances. Viktor had been very eager to help, and was confident that he’d be able to bring Nikolai’s grandson back before long.

Unfortunately, they only got one solid lead. It was a photograph of two people stepping into a taxi – an unknown man with his back turned towards the camera, and a blonde boy. And although the lighting in the picture was kind of dim, there was no mistaking it – that boy was Yuri Plisetsky. The picture had been taken outside the airport in Detroit about a month after Yuri’s disappearance, and was included in a travel magazine over half a year later. Yuri’s grandfather Nikolai had only happened to see it by chance.

As soon as Viktor had seen it, he’d booked himself a one-way ticket.

He had hoped to be able to identify the man who’d been with Yuri in the picture – the man who was most likely responsible for Yuri’s abduction. Yet in the end, it had been impossible. Not a single airline had any records of a passenger by the name of Yuri Plisetsky, and the taxi company had claimed not to have any records at all. Whoever had taken Yuri away, Viktor thought bitterly, must have worked very hard to cover their tracks.

“No news, no,” Viktor said in response to Yuuri’s question. “But I am still working on it, despite everything.”

“Of course you are.” Yuuri’s smile was rather fond. “You’re persistent. Some would say too persistent.”

“I like to think of it as patience – which is a literal virtue, by the way.” Viktor returned Yuuri’s smile briefly, before sighing. “Although I guess it’s mostly guilt and regret, at this point.”

 “You feel guilty? Really?”

“Of course I feel guilty.” Viktor glanced up towards the picture of Yuri right in the middle of their bulletin board, the picture he had nailed there when he’d first come to Detroit. Back when they still had hope. “I failed that kid.”

“Viktor, no.” Yuuri reached out to gently take both of Viktor’s hands in his. “It was never your fault, what happened to Yuri.”

“No, but I promised that I’d help. I promised I would get him back.” Viktor sighed again, letting his gaze drop to the floor. “He would have turned seventeen, the month before last.”

“Maybe he did?” Yuuri suggested, his tone kind. “He _could_ still be alive. Despite everything.”

“He could,” Viktor allowed. “Although I can’t say that I like the idea of Yuri spending the past five years with his captors.”

Yuuri didn’t disagree with that.

“I just… I wish I could at least find out what actually happened to him. If we could at least know the truth. Maybe that would be enough.”

“Then let’s hope for that,” Yuuri replied firmly. “I still believe that you’ll be able to crack this case, you know. There really isn’t any such thing as the perfect crime.”

“I hope you’re right,” Viktor agreed, offering Yuuri a wry smile. “Although I suppose abduction isn’t quite your usual style, eh?”

This time, Yuuri didn’t smile back.

“We’ve been over this, Viktor – you _can’t_ ask me about my work.” Yuuri’s tone had turned ice cold. “It’s private, and often dangerous.”

“No, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean it like that.” Viktor leaned a little closer, carefully tucking a strand of Yuuri’s hair back into place. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else.”

Yuuri abruptly checked his watch.

“I have to leave, in a few minutes.”

“… all right.” Viktor tried his best not to let too much of his disappointment show. “But I will see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll be here, same time.”

“Okay.” Viktor bravely attempted another smile. “I’ll miss you, until then.”

Yuuri was quiet for a moment, for some reason studying Viktor’s expression quite carefully – and then he leaned forwards. It was a soft kiss, just a brief touch of lips before Yuuri pulled back slightly.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he murmured, his eyes still closed and his lips right _there_. “I always miss you, Viktor.”

“So maybe you should stay a while longer, for once?”

“Can’t. I’ve really got to go.”

“Can I kiss you again, first? Just once?”

Yuuri’s laughter was breathless.

“Definitely.”

Viktor reached up to trail his fingers along Yuuri’s cheek, before he closed the distance between them again. This time he tried to kiss Yuuri gently, unhurriedly. As though he wasn’t starving for every touch, desperate for every single moment Yuuri was willing to offer. As if he wouldn’t break down the moment Yuuri walked out the door, barely holding himself together until they could see each other again.

(As if Viktor didn’t wake up every morning with a dull ache in his heart, and three little words still unspoken.)

When they broke apart, Yuuri still looked at Viktor as if he knew.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Yuuri repeated, carefully adjusting the collar of Viktor’s shirt. “Three pm, sharp. I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Viktor promised quietly. “I’ll always wait, for you.”

Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand one last time before he got up, shrugging into his jacket. As he picked up his backpack, Viktor’s gaze was suddenly drawn to something stuck halfway down the side of it… Something white? Viktor frowned, leaning forwards a little.

Carefully, he picked up a pair of short, sleek, distinctly white hairs.

Too white to be human.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, nodding towards the hairs in Viktor’s palm. “Well. Fancy that.”

“Is this… Yuuri, do you have a _pet_?”

Viktor’s tone was incredulous. Yuuri grinned slightly.

“You’re surprised?”

“Well, I’d have thought…” Viktor cleared his throat. “I mean, considering your occupation. It didn’t seem probable.”

“I do have a pet,” Yuuri admitted. And for some reason, his smile had turned a little helpless. “In fact, I have several.”

“Really?”

“Unfortunately. I think I’ve got about seven cats, at the moment.”

Viktor raised both eyebrows, frowning.

“You _think_? How can you not know?”

“That’s actually a bit of a long story,” Yuuri said, quickly continuing. “But I suppose the short version is that I sort of… Keep picking up these stray cats? Every now and then.”

“Stray cats,” Viktor repeated doubtfully. This was probably one of those things he’d have to see, if he was going to believe it. “You took in _seven_ stray cats?”

“Seven or eight, depending on how you... Well.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “You know, I really do have to get going.”

“To feed your seven-or-eight cats? Because that should take a while.”

“Very funny, Viktor.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“Yeah, okay.” Viktor smiled again, trying to keep his tone light as he continued. “Take care of yourself, Yuuri.”

Yuuri nodded, once.

“You too.”

Then he left.

It was another twenty minutes before Chris came back to the office.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.

Viktor grimaced.

“More or less.”

“Thad bad, today?”

“Not exactly,” Viktor denied. “I mean, Yuuri did stay to talk for a bit. Which was nice.”

“Really?” Chris wondered, sounding both surprised and curious. “So, did he tell you anything useful? His full name, or his number? Whether or not he’s wanted in more than one state…?”

“That’s very funny, Chris,” Viktor retorted, yet he didn’t actually sound all that angry. “Yuuri asked about the case. And then we somehow ended up talking about his cats.”

Chris stared at him.

“Cats? Yuuri has _cats?_ No, you’re lying.”

“I’m not, no. And I actually don’t think Yuuri was, either.”

“Huh.” Chris looked rather thoughtful. “Well. Maybe even hardcore criminals can’t resist a fluffy kitten or two?”

“Something like that, I suppose.” Viktor turned to look at Chris, who was still hovering over by the door. “Are you going to just stand over there? Because I’d much prefer it if you came over here and made yourself useful.”

“All right, all right.” Chris kicked off his shoes. “Oh, before I forget – there was a letter for you.”

“For me? Not for the company?”

“Seems like it.” Chris handed it over as he sat down at his desk. “They wrote your name in Russian.”

“Yes, I can see... Wait.” Viktor had paused his movements, his gaze fixed on the neat handwriting spelling out their address. “This is a letter from Nikolai Plisetsky.”

Chris’s head snapped up.

“But it’s not your birthday?”

Viktor smiled slightly.

“That’s what I thought, too.”

As the years had gone by, Viktor had kept in touch with both Yuri’s mother and his grandfather, albeit less and less frequently. Viktor’s correspondence with Nikolai had dwindled down to an annual postcard from Nikolai on Viktor’s birthday, and Viktor’s thank-you letter in response, usually paired with an update on his unfortunate lack of progress on the case. Viktor had last received a postcard from Nikolai on his 27th birthday, as per usual.

Only four months had passed since then.

Feeling very curious, Viktor opened the envelope, pulling out a single sheet of white paper. For some reason, there was something slightly off about the familiar handwriting that covered the page. As though the hand holding the pen had been shaking.

Viktor begun to read.

 

_Viktor,_

_I regret to inform you that Irina Plisetsky has died._

_Irina’s passing comes as no shock to her closest family. The truth is that Irina has battled against multiple sclerosis for over ten years. Three days ago she came down with a severe infection, one that would prove fatal given her already fragile condition. She took her last breaths this morning, with only her chambermaid and her brother Alexei by her side. Her final resting place will be beside her late husband, my son Sergei Plisetsky, and not in the family grave of her parents and grandparents. According to her brother, this was one of her final requests._

_As I’m sure you have already realized, this brings a certain urgency to the matter of my grandson. Yuri Plisetsky is still considered missing, as opposed to deceased, by Russian authorities. This means that in the eyes of the law, he is still Irina’s heir. As such, Yuri must formally accept his inheritance within six months, or else the estate and all of Irina’s assets will go to her brother, Alexei Kostomarov._

_As I understand it, Alexei considers this six month delay a mere formality, seeing as no one has seen or heard from Yuri Plisetsky for years._

_I disagree._

_Please keep the following information only between the two of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to this mysterious adventure that features lost boys, fluffy white cats and ridiculously expensive diamonds.  
> I'm hoping to write about six chapters of this and I've got a very good idea about where I'm going with it. Feel free to grab a cup of coffee, settle in and watch the drama unfold.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://eriskay.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


	2. Chapter 2

Phichit was late.

Yuuri pulled up the collar of his jacket, making sure to keep his gaze locked on the ground. Because while this was far from the shadiest neighbourhood Yuuri had ever set foot in, it didn’t give him a particularly pleasant vibe. It would have been quite troublesome if he was approached by a pickpocket, or a swindler, or a con-artist _today_ of all days – Yuuri wouldn’t have the time to properly discuss business.

Unless, of course, the con-artist happened to be Phichit.

Phichit was by far the most skilled confidence trickster Yuuri had ever worked with. He could easily have convinced a parent to hand over their toddler for safe-keeping. Not that he ever _had_ , to Yuuri’s knowledge, but it was certainly within his power to do so.

Yuuri was Phichit’s go-to guy whenever he needed a solid shill – someone to step in at just the right moment to give whatever scheme Phichit was running some much-needed credibility. Once, when Phichit had opened up a (rather fake) real estate agency, Yuuri had interrupted one of his meetings to come in and pick up the paperwork for a house Phichit had ‘sold’ him, and personally thank Phichit for the outstanding deal he’d gotten. “I’m telling you, Mr Changlek is the best guy in the business,” Yuuri had told the middle-aged lady and prospective homeowner who’d curiously watched their exchange. “You couldn’t find a better agent in the whole country.”

Phichit had ultimately swindled the woman out of sixty thousand dollars.

They’d shared that one 40-60. Because while Phichit had set up most of the operation, Yuuri had cleaned the money.

Just as Yuuri checked his watch for the seventh time, Phichit rounded a nearby corner.

“Sorry,” he greeted Yuuri. “I was held up.”

“We can’t talk here.”

“I know. Follow me.”

Phichit led the way around another corner, and then through a narrow passage between two buildings. It led to a small courtyard where the only way out was the one they’d come through, except for a single door leading into the opposite building. Phichit swiftly procured a key from his pocket.

“The place is empty,” he told Yuuri as he unlocked the door. “I’m just picking something up.”

They entered. It was a quite small room, with jam-packed shelves along every wall – some kind of storage space, then. Phichit immediately stepped over to the furthest corner of the room, reaching in between two shelves to pull out a plain, black folder. After taking a quick look inside, he carefully slid it into his bag.

Yuuri raised both eyebrows in question.

“Just paperwork,” Phichit explained, his tone casual. “I’m working on a large-scale operation, with the Leroys.”

Yuuri frowned.

“I see,” he said shortly.

“It’s looking very promising, so far.” There was something vaguely hopeful in Phichit’s expression. “If this one works out… Well. Let’s just say you and I could both take a few months off.”

Yuuri didn’t answer that at all.

Phichit sighed impatiently.

“You don’t want in on it, then?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “We could really use your expertise this time. There are others, but with so much money on the line I’d prefer to work with someone I can trust.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone to JJ in the first place.”

Phichit’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“ _He_ approached _me_ , thank you very much. And it really is a good deal! High stakes, sure, but damn good money if we pull it off.”

“Then I hope it works out for you,” Yuuri said, his tone firm yet still calm. “But it should come as no surprise that I want no part in it.”

Something unpleasant passed over Phichit’s expression – for a moment, he looked almost angry.

Almost.

“Well. Isn’t that just _great_.” Phichit ran a hand through his hair, his tone resigned. “I guess that means I need to give Seung-Gil another call.”

Yuuri gave him a startled look.

“Seung-Gil? Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, who else?” Phichit furrowed his brows, clearly trying to decipher Yuuri’s sudden hesitance. “I know he’s not as good as you, but I’m sure he can get it done. He’s cleaned up to fifty grand for me, before.”

“I didn’t know you two were still in contact.”

“Well, we are,” Phichit said. “You don’t mind, do you? You must’ve realized that I go to other people, when you’re not available.”

“Yes, but… Are you aware of the business Seung-Gil has been involved in for the past few months?”

There was something rather careful about Yuuri’s tone.

“Not the particulars, no,” Phichit admitted. “But I understand the money has been quite steady?”

“Cocaine,” Yuuri supplied. “He’s been smuggling, mostly by sea.”

Phichit gave a low whistle.

“That would certainly explain his current financial situation.”

“Yes,” Yuuri agreed, quickly continuing. “But more importantly, I should probably tell you that he’s about to get busted. Within next week, for sure.”

“Really? Why would he…?   _Wait_.” Phichit’s gaze hardened. “No. Yuuri, _please_ tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t. Because I did.” Yuuri’s tone was perfectly calm. “You know I have to provide Viktor with something actually useful, every now and then. He’d never trust me, otherwise.”

“But Seung-Gil? _Really_? Fuck, didn’t you two work together a few years back?”

“Very briefly,” Yuuri said, shrugging lightly. “Long before he started dealing with drugs, which, well. You know how I feel about that particular trade.”

“But what if Seung-Gil gives the cops your name? If he rats you out, in turn?”

Yuuri smiled.

“Seung-Gil doesn’t know my real name, and I doubt he’ll ever figure out I was the one who turned him in. I’ll be just fine.”

Phichit stared at Yuuri for a moment, before slowly shaking his head.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “I guess this means I’ve got to call things off, with JJ’s crew.”

“Now that’s a smart move.”

“Fuck you, too,” Phichit said sincerely. “You do realize I’ll have to lie low for quite some time? They could easily find something on me, when they get Seung-Gil. This is really gonna cost me.”

“I am sorry about that,” Yuuri offered. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Okay, then.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Then Phichit gave Yuuri a mischievous look.

“At least tell me you capitalized as much as possible on this,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Was Nikiforov very pleased, when you told him? Did he thank you _properly_ …?”

Yuuri would have liked to say that he didn’t blush.

“That’s none of your business.”

“So he _did_?” Phichit grinned widely. “Let me guess – you finally let him take you home.”

“Of course not,” Yuuri said sharply. “That would have been extremely reckless.”

“But probably a lot of fun.”

“And possibly fatal,” Yuuri countered. “I know perfectly well that Viktor is only using me for information, and if he found out what I’ve been keeping from him all this time… Well. If he had me cornered, I’d probably be lucky to get out alive.”

“That’s… Not half as kinky as I’d hoped.” Phichit’s tone was reassuring as he continued. “I don’t think things would necessarily get violent, though. Wouldn’t they at least let you try to explain? Nikiforov is a good man, isn’t he?”

“The very best kind,” Yuuri agreed quietly. “But he’s incredibly passionate about justice. About doing the right thing. I think we may assume that he would not react politely, if he knew the whole truth about me.”

“Well,” Phichit said, considering. “We’ll figure something out, if it comes to that. I know a guy who could definitely break Nikiforov’s neck, for the right price."

“How about _no_.”

“Oh, right, this isn’t just a keep-your-enemies-closer type of deal – you actually _like_ the guy.” Phichit grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I kind of forgot.”

Yuuri shrugged, abruptly checking his watch.

(But he didn’t outright deny it, Phichit noted with interest. And wasn’t that a first?)

“I have to get going, soon,” Yuuri said.

“Yeah, me too,” Phichit agreed. “I’ve got to get back to the Leroys, and… Oh, wait – I almost forgot! I have important news. Shit, I should probably have told you this first.”

“Told me what?”

“You didn’t hear this from me, okay?” Phichit lowered his voice slightly, despite the fact that they were alone. “But apparently, Altin is finally back in town.”

“What?” Yuuri snapped. “Are you _sure_? How long have you known?”

“I’m sure. And I only found out this afternoon, I swear. I would have called, otherwise.”

“Fuck,” Yuuri muttered, already making his way towards the door. “Then I’ve definitely got to go.”

“D’you think he’ll give you guys trouble, again?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said, pushing the door open. “But it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“All right. Let me know if you need any assistance?”

Yuuri paused, raising both eyebrows.

“I thought you were supposed to lie low, for a while?”

Phichit grinned.

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you have _all_ the fun.”

“If there’s any fun to be had, you’ll be the first to know,” Yuuri assured him dryly.

 

* * *

 

Less than half an hour later, when Yuuri stepped into his apartment, he was met by the smell of spaghetti and tomato sauce.

Yuuri immediately closed the door behind him, making sure that both locks were in place. Then he allowed himself to lean his forehead against the smooth, wooden surface for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

After he’d composed himself again, Yuuri shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his shoes, slowly making his way into the apartment and taking care to avoid stepping on Sniper – or wait, wasn’t that Shotgun? (Either way, he probably shouldn’t crush her.) He went into his bedroom briefly to put his backpack away, and to chase Jaguar and Lioness off his bed, _again_. Then he finally made his way into the kitchen.

Just as he’d thought, there were two used pots on the side of the stove, as well as a used dish in the sink. Saber was draped across the couch by the kitchen table, while her sister Tooth had curled up in one of the chairs. And on the floor, nestled together on their arguably clean carpet, was Yuri, together with the newest member of their group – a pearly white kitten of approximately ten weeks.

Yuri looked up, nodding briefly towards Yuuri.

“There’s food.”

“That’s nice.” Yuuri walked over to the stove, peering into the pots. “Why is it that all the cats are on top of our furniture, while you’re on the floor? Well, you and that one.”

Yuri carefully tugged the white kitten a bit further up his chest, his movements endearingly protective.

“I’ve thought of a good name, for her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Scandal.”

Yuuri grimaced.

“Really? But she’s so… Not hideous.”

“Fuck you, just admit that she’s cute.”

“Fine, she’s cute.” Yuuri opened a cupboard to take out a plate for himself. “You’ve already eaten?”

“Yeah. There should be enough for you, too.”

“There is. Thanks.”

Yuuri served himself pasta with tomato sauce, and sat down to eat at the table – in the _only_ chair not occupied by a cat. The pasta was slightly overcooked, and the sauce was definitely of the ready-made variety, but it was still pretty good overall. Nothing to Yuuri’s mother’s cooking, of course, but Yuuri’s mother wasn’t a seventeen-year-old boy who had lived the first half of his life with a live-in maid and the second half without proper parents.

Scandal had apparently had enough cuddles, for now, because she was slowly getting to her feet, hopping down to the floor and wandering off in the direction of the food and water bowls. Yuri watched her for a moment, before rolling over on his stomach and fixing his gaze on Yuuri, instead.

“Where were you, tonight?”

Yuuri paused, considering what he should say. Which parts he ought to keep to himself.

“I had a meeting.”

“With those detectives?”

“No, I saw them earlier today.” Yuuri took another bite of pasta. “Nothing’s changed on their end, by the way. As usual.”

“Good.” Yuri reached out to play with a few strands of the carpet. “What was your meeting about?”

“I was catching up with a business partner.”

“With who?”

“With a business partner,” Yuuri repeated. “You don’t need to know who.”

“But I _want_ to know who.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want you to get involved.” Yuuri reached for the salt, sprinkling a bit more over his plate. “And I’m the adult, so tough luck.”

“I’m practically an adult,” Yuri pointed out sourly. “I will be eighteen in less than ten months. _You_ weren’t much older than me, when we first came here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Yuuri said calmly. “Hey, I think there’s pudding in the refrigerator. If you want some?”

Yuri leapt off the carpet before Yuuri had even finished the sentence. Yuuri smiled to himself.

They finished eating in silence, Yuuri still at the table and Yuri back on the floor, this time joined by Jaguar and Shotgun. As Yuuri got up to take his plate to the sink, Yuri’s phone beeped. Yuri quickly pulled it out of his pocket, and sent off a text. Then he waited, expectantly.

Another beep came, almost instantly.

Yuri got to his feet.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” he said, obviously trying to sound casual.

Yuuri sighed, turning around to face him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You already know why,” Yuuri told him firmly. “Yuri, I don’t want you to see him.”

“I never said I was-“

“I’m really not that stupid.”

Yuri scowled at him.

“You don’t even know what he’s like,” he snapped.

“I think I know enough.”

“No, you _don’t_.” Yuri’s voice was trembling with anger, now. “Otabek isn’t a bad person. He only steals from rich fucks, people who already have more than they could possibly spend. Unlike _some_ people.”

“Some people have been struggling to keep you alive for the past five years,” Yuuri reminded him tersely. “Besides, Otabek Altin is reckless. Too reckless. One of these days, he’s going to get caught.”

“You don’t know that,” Yuri muttered. “Otabek is _brilliant_. I’m sure he could outsmart anyone.”

“Maybe so, but I can’t risk you being involved with someone like that.” Yuuri took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, at least a little bit. “What if they got you, too?”

“They won’t.” Yuri sounded absolutely certain. “Otabek wouldn’t let them.”

“I’m sure Altin is very noble and all, but even you must understand that it _could_ happen,” Yuuri snapped. “Don’t you realize how that would end? If they found out where you’ve been all these years, and who took you away?”

For a moment, Yuri’s determined expression faltered slightly.

“I’d tell them the truth,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You know I would, right? I’d protect you.”

“And would they believe you?” Yuuri questioned, continuing before Yuri had the chance to argue. “You were twelve years old when we left, Yuri. _Twelve_. They would say that I manipulated you, that I’ve held you prisoner. They know I was openly gay – they would assume that I’ve… That you’ve been abused, by me. Your story wouldn’t be credible.”

“But I’m fine!” Yuri protested. “I’m not hurt. You’ve never locked me up. I’m going to _school_ , for fucks sake. That should count for something.”

Yuuri smiled slightly.

“I suppose it’s theoretically possible that someone will listen, and I will appreciate you trying. But I think it’s extremely unlikely that anyone will actually believe you.”

“I’m going to prepare a speech,” Yuri said fiercely. “And what do you mean, _will_? You don’t even know if we’ll ever be found.”

“No, but I know people are still looking. And I also know that one of these days, Altin is going to do something terribly stupid and get himself locked up. So, just… Don’t go out, tonight. Okay? Don’t see him. I worry about you enough without high-profile jewellery thieves hanging around.”

“You don’t need to _worry_ about me,” Yuri retorted angrily. “Fucks sake, you’re not my mom.”

“No, I’m not,” Yuuri agreed quietly. “But if I was, you would already be dead. And I would be indifferent.”

Yuri’s expression darkened.

“Shut up, okay? Just shut the _fuck_ up!”

Yuuri took a step backwards, startled. It had been a while since he’d seen Yuri look quite so murderous. In fact, there was a hardness in Yuri gaze that Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri offered after a moment. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

Yuri shrugged. Yet the look in his eyes was still ice cold.

“I’ll be in my room.”

Well. Small mercies.

“Do you want some tea?” Yuuri asked, even as Yuri was leaving the kitchen.

“No.”

“Hot chocolate, maybe?” Yuuri tried, because he knew Yuri far too well to give up that easily. “I’m pretty sure we’ve still got some of those marshmallows, somewhere.”

That made Yuri pause.

“The strawberry ones?”

Yuuri barely contained his smile.

“The strawberry ones. As many as you’d like.”

Another brief pause. Then Yuri sighed.

“ _Fine_ ,” he muttered, turning halfway back towards Yuuri. “Do you… Should I help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Yuuri assured him immediately, because it wouldn’t be much of a peace offering if Yuri had to do all the work. “Why don’t you see where Scandal went off to? We’d better make sure the others are being nice to her.”

“Okay.”

Yuuri added six spoons of sugar to Yuri’s chocolate – twice as many as the recipe instructed – and topped it off with a small mountain of pink marshmallows. Because apparently, some things don’t change between twelve and seventeen.

Still, Yuuri thought, as he watched Yuri step back into the kitchen with a protective hold around Scandal, and something very close to fondness in his eyes – some things definitely change between twelve and seventeen. For the better.

“What?” Yuri questioned when he looked up to see Yuuri staring at him. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, that’s… Nothing. It’s nothing.” Yuuri cleared his throat, setting their mugs on the table. “Here. Hot chocolate.”

Yuri furrowed his brows, clearly perplexed.

Yet he didn’t ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://eriskay.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor stared at the letter in his hand, his brows furrowed.

It didn’t make sense.

Nikolai Plisetsky claimed to have received a series of letters from Yuri Plisetsky almost a year after Yuri’s initial disappearance. Yet for some reason, Nikolai hadn’t shared these letters with anyone – not even Yuri’s own mother. There were difficult circumstances, Nikolai wrote, which he could not share with Viktor at present – but perhaps a few excerpts from Yuri’s letters could help Viktor with his search for Yuri at this crucial time?

Unfortunately, the excerpts from Yuri’s letters were few and very short. Viktor could understand why Nicolai would be reluctant to part with the originals, but he would have much preferred a photocopy at _least_ – at this point, even the handwriting that was supposedly Yuri’s could be a potential clue. Still, at least Nikolai seemed to have selected the paragraphs very carefully –  it was clear that he had decided on parts that contained some kind of information on Yuri’s whereabouts, without revealing too much of… Well. Whatever it was that Nikolai was still keeping from everyone else.

 _There are tall trees with gigantic leaves outside of our window_ , read one quote _. It’s almost autumn, here, so the days are getting colder. Are you cold, too, grandpa? You can borrow my old mittens, if you like. I’ve got new ones, you see, green with white stitching, and they’re really comfortable. So you don’t need to worry about me. I’m always warm._

_We’ve moved again. It’s outside of town, this time, but at least it’s an actual house. We haven’t got our own backyard, but all the neighbours are quiet. It’s nice. Although I do miss the noise of the city, a little bit. I miss the sounds of the people mover, and taxis going by, and the crowds on the streets. I miss the pizza place from down the block._

_I found a cat today! She has dark fur and is very beautiful. I think she hasn’t been getting enough to eat, so I’ve decided she’s going to come live with us for a little while. Or well, I’ve actually decided that she’ll live with us forever, but that’s for me to know and everyone else to find out. I’m thinking of naming her Jaguar. She kind of looks like one, and besides, she’s been so brave. She deserves a fierce name. I wish you could meet her, grandpa. I wish you could come visit us. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to invite you._

“You’re still reading that?”

Viktor looked up. Chris, who had been trying to organize the bulletins on their latest case, had apparently taken a break. He was nursing a cup of coffee and watching Viktor with something not entirely unlike pity in his eyes.

“It’s an important development on the case,” Viktor reminded him tersely. “Extremely vague and possibly useless, but still important.”

“Sure,” Chris agreed, his tone all disbelief. “If those letters were real, then sure.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Do you?” Chris questioned. “Seriously, think about it. Yuri Plisetsky writes a series of letters to his grandfather, seemingly with the intent of reassuring Nikolai that he’s actually fine. Fast forward four years, and Yuri is still missing. He hasn’t contacted any other member of his family. Nothing else would indicate that Yuri is even a little bit okay.”

“You don’t think it adds up.”

“No, because it _really_ doesn’t.” Chris was shaking his head firmly. “Consider instead the possibility that someone else penned these letters and sent them to Yuri’s grandfather, in an attempt to spare him the grief of losing his only grandson. Now that’s a reasonable explanation.”

“I have considered that,” Viktor admitted. “But then, why weren’t letters also sent to Yuri’s mother? Why Nikolai? And what part of Yuri’s writing is it that Nikolai still won’t share with me?”

“Maybe something that feels too personal,” Chris suggested. “It doesn’t have to be the key to solving the case, Viktor. _Especially_ if Yuri’s letters are fake.”

“Or, it could be something incredibly important,” Viktor insisted. “Especially if Yuri’s letters are _real_.”

“I suppose there is a slight possibility,” Chris allowed. “But either way, you don’t have much to go on unless Nikolai changes his mind about his secrecy, do you?”

“I have considerably more to go on than we’ve had for the past five years. A couple of the things Yuri writes about are actually quite interesting.”

“What, like his cat?” Chris asked, a hint of humour in his voice. “Or the mittens?”

Viktor rolled his eyes towards him.

“Why don’t you shut up and look at the descriptions of the city, instead,” he suggested. “Yuri mentions crowds, taxis and a pizza place. And, most importantly, a _people mover_.”

That actually made Chris glance towards the letter with some interest.

“Well,” he said, considering. “That should be here, in Detroit. What other city has a transportation system called a people mover?”

“Not very many, as it turns out.” Viktor grinned slightly. “So, if these letters do turn out to be real…”

“… then Yuri Plisetsky still lived here when he wrote them.” Chris was starting to look rather impressed. “Which was when, exactly?”

“Four years ago, a full year after Yuri went missing. Which means that Yuri Plisetsky stayed in Detroit for at _least_ a full year.”

“ _If_ the letters are real.”

“It’s possible that they are,” Viktor reminded him stubbornly. “And it’s _especially_ possible that Yuri lived in a part of town where he could hear the people mover, and where there was a pizza place exactly one block away. Which narrows things down considerably.”

“Oh no. Viktor, _no_.” For some reason, the look on Chris’s face had turned rather hysterical. “Please tell me you’re not going to get a Detroit city map and start outlining possible areas. That’s going to take _weeks_.”

“Weeks? I’m thinking a few days, at the most.” Viktor’s tone was infuriatingly optimistic. “Remember the Rostelecom heist? We pinpointed that gang in only a few hours.”

“Yes, but we had considerably more to go on and were only working through five neighbourhoods,” Chris reminded him. “Besides, we’ve got other cases to work on, too.”

“None as important as this one.”

For some reason, that made Chris grin slightly.

“Really? So catching the infamous jewellery thief Otabek Altin red-handed wouldn’t mean _anything_ to you?”

Viktor sighed, glancing over towards their bulletin board, where Chris had spent all morning carefully nailing post-it notes and newspaper clippings around their most recent headline:

_The Ice Tiger – Altin’s next target?_

“We don’t _know_ that Altin is actually going after the Ice Tiger,” Viktor told him sourly.

“That’s kind of what the question mark is for, Viktor.” Chris pointed out. “It wouldn’t be much of a case unless we were trying to figure something out.”

“Do we have anything at all to go on? We don’t even know for sure that Altin is back in town.”

“No, but rumour has it, he is. And don’t you think the timing is strange? That Altin would return to Detroit only days before the opening of Treasures of Russia?”

“I’m pretty sure not everyone keeps track of touring jewellery exhibits quite as obsessively as you.”

“Maybe not, but a black-market antiquities dealer would. Besides, the Ice Tiger is _right_ up his alley.”

“Shiny and expensive, you mean?”

“Everything in that exhibit is shiny and expensive,” Chris huffed. “The Ice Tiger is _unique_. It’s the largest diamond ever found in the Santo António mines in Brazil, and it was cut and polished by none other than Lazare Kaplan. The same man who cut the-“

“The Jonker Diamond,” Viktor filled in. “I know.”

“Good to know you paid attention to _some_ of the things I told you this morning.”

“I didn’t, actually,” Viktor said, grinning slightly. “I’ve heard about the Ice Tiger before. Did you know that the Fabergé Museum, where the Ice Tiger is usually on display, don’t actually own it?”

Chris blinked.

“No, I did not.”

“Well, they don’t. The real owner has graciously allowed them to display it for many years.”

“The real owner being…?”

Viktor smiled.

“Does the name ‘Irina Plisetsky’ ring any bells?”

“What?” Chris exclaimed. “ _Really_?”

“Really.” Viktor was nodding slowly, looking back down towards his letter. “Although I suppose, since Irina passed away recently, the Ice Tiger will have a new owner soon regardless of Altin’s involvement. And now one of Irina’s most prized possessions just happens to be here, in Detroit. That _is_ actually quite interesting.”

Chris, who seemed to have recovered from his initial surprise at the connection between their two cases, sighed deeply.

“I can’t believe that you’ve just made my new, exciting Altin case all about Yuri Plisetsky. Or actually, I _can_ believe that. Maybe that’s the real problem, here.”

“Do we even _have_ an Altin case?” Viktor questioned. “I still think it’s all a little too hypothetical.”

“Unlike the Plisetsky case that you’re so close to solving, Mr I’ve-got-a-lead-but-it’s-probably- _fake_.”

“The Plisetsky case is a case. Someone is _missing_. The Altin case could be a case _if_ Altin is actually in town, and _if_ he’s actually after the Ice Tiger. That’s one ‘if’ too many.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on their door.

Viktor and Chris exchanged a look.

“Yuuri shouldn’t be here for another thirty minutes,” Viktor said, speaking quietly.

“Maybe he’s early?” Chris suggested, tentatively taking a step towards the door.

Viktor frowned.

“Yuuri is never early.”

“Well, maybe something happened. Think it’s safe to open?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Chris nodded, briefly meeting Viktor’s eyes again, before he stepped forward. He opened the door slowly, curiously peering outside.

“Oh,” he said after a moment, his tone rather faint. “Well. This is a surprise.”

Otabek Altin smiled.

“I’m afraid I haven’t scheduled an appointment” he said, his voice darker than Viktor would have expected. “But I have a case for you, if you’re willing to take it. It concerns something that I know is of great interest to you.”

Viktor quickly turned Altin’s words over in his head, nodding slowly to himself – because he wasn’t about to turn down a potential quid pro quo. A quick glance towards Chris assured him that Chris was thinking the same thing.

“Well,” Viktor said, meeting Altin’s eyes directly. “You’d better come inside, then.”

“Thank you.”

Altin carefully closed the door behind himself. He glanced around the room briefly, and Viktor was certain that his gaze lingered for a moment on the bulletin on their board that contained his own name. At any rate, something made a small smile tug at Altin’s lips.

So much for being one step ahead.

“Would you like some coffee?” Chris offered.

Viktor almost glared at him, because Chris had never once asked if Yuuri wanted something to drink. Altin merely shook his head.

“Right,” Chris said, looking very much like he wanted to appear calm about the whole situation. “Let’s sit down.”

It was strange, Viktor thought, to see Altin occupying the chair where Yuuri usually sat. Strange, but not entirely out of place.

“So,” Altin said, his tone all business. “I’m looking for a cat.”

Viktor raised both eyebrows.

“A _cat_?”

“A stray cat, to be precise,” Altin clarified. “It would seem that I’ve lost track of his whereabouts, and I’m starting to feel concerned.”

“Concerned about a cat,” Chris repeated after a beat, his expression about as confused as Viktor felt.

“A _stray_ cat,” Altin emphasized, his eyes back on Chris. “You should be writing all of this down.”

“Well,” Chris said, unable to keep from smiling a little. “I’m not sure if we’ll really need to-“

“You should be writing _all_ of this down, _exactly_ the way I phrased it,” Altin interrupted. “A stray cat. I’ve lost track of his whereabouts. And I’m starting to feel concerned.”

Chris exchanged another glance with Viktor. Then he slowly reached for his notepad.

“A stray cat,” he said, looking at Altin for confirmation. “Not your stray cat?”

“No, _a_ stray cat.”

“And you’ve lost track of his whereabouts.”

“That’s right. And I’m starting to feel concerned.”

“Concerned… Right.” Chris held up his notepad for Altin to inspect. “Good enough?”

Altin carefully read through Chris’s notes, before nodding his approval.

“Your other cases must take you all over town. I’d be grateful if you could keep an eye out.”

“We… We sure will.” Chris coughed lightly. “I’m not sure if I understand, completely.”

Altin smiled slightly.

“Don’t worry. You will.”

“This cat,” Viktor begun, deciding to try a different angle. “I assume there’s something rather special about it?”

“Him,” Altin corrected. “And yes. There is. That’s why I’m concerned.”

“I… I see.”

Altin smiled again. Then he got to his feet.

“You’ll put that up on your board, later,” he said, gesturing towards Chris’s notes.

Chris blinked towards him, the look in his eyes even more confused than before.

“Probably, I guess?”

“Maybe not,” Viktor said, watching Altin closely. “We don’t pin all our case files on there, you see, and-“

“You’ll pin that one,” Altin interrupted. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Chris muttered.

Viktor, meanwhile, was nodding.

“I suppose it must be,” he said, holding Altin’s gaze. “I’m just not quite sure which case it belongs to…?”

For some reason, that made Altin laugh softly.

“Clever, aren’t you? Then I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“But we need to put it up,” Viktor repeated. “On the board?”

“Please do.” Altin’s expression was infuriatingly unreadable. “That’ll be all for now. If I don’t make any progress, I’ll come back. And if that’s what it comes to, I’ll have a lot more information for you to work with.”

“Good to know,” Chris said, his tone unfortunately betraying his complete bewilderment. “We’ll… Be seeing you, then?”

Altin smiled, looking satisfied in a way that Viktor would very much have liked to wipe right off his face.

“Perhaps you will.”

Then he left.

Both Viktor and Chris were quiet for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

Chris spoke first.

“Why do I have this feeling that we just got completely screwed over, and we don’t even know it?”

“You’re not alone,” Viktor said, sighing. “I have literally no idea what just happened. And that’s probably not a good sign.”

“Let’s… List facts?” Chris suggested, yet he didn’t sound particularly hopeful. “Focus on what we do know. That could help.”

“Maybe, yeah.”

“We’ve got to at least _try_ to make sense of this,” Chris insisted, turning a page in his notebook and tapping his pen against it. “Okay. Fact: Otabek Altin was just here.”

“Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me.”

“If you’re not going to help, then shut up,” Chris shot back, still writing across the page. “Fact: Otabek Altin knows where our office is.”

“He also potentially knows the general gist of all our major cases, at the moment.”

“He does?” Chris looked up at Viktor, looking quite alarmed. “How?”

“I’m pretty sure he got a good look at our notice board,” Viktor said, nodding grimly towards it. “So that sucks.”

“Fuck,” Chris muttered, writing rapidly. “Fact: everything _sucks_.”

“That’s an opinion, not a fact.”

“Yeah, but I felt much better after writing it down.”

“Good for you.” Viktor looked over towards Chris’s list, actually trying to focus this time. “Fact: Otabek Altin is looking for a cat.”

“A stray cat,” Chris corrected him, yet he still wrote it down. “Isn’t that an odd coincidence, by the way?”

“What is?”

“About the cat. Wasn’t Yuuri talking to you about cats, yesterday?”

“That was different,” Viktor said. Because really, it had been. “Yuuri was talking about real cats, his pets. Otabek’s cat came across as more… Metaphorical?”

“Metaphorical,” Chris repeated, jotting it down. “That’s good. That might even… _Wait_.”

“What?” Viktor asked, a little weary of the triumphant grin that was taking over Chris’s entire expression. “You thought of something?”

“Yes, and you’re going to hate it so much,” Chris declared, looking up to meet Viktor’s eyes. “The Ice Tiger.”

Viktor blinked.

“What about it?”

“A tiger, Viktor. _A tiger is a cat_.”

“No,” Viktor said immediately. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s entirely possible, and you know it!” Chris insisted. “I told you, the Ice Tiger is right up Altin’s alley. And now we know that he’s definitely back in town, _and_ that he’s in search of a very _special_ cat…”

“But it wouldn’t make sense for him to waltz in here and hand us a clue on his next target,” Viktor pointed out, speaking slowly. “He doesn’t gain anything from that.”

“That’s true, but I still think-“

“I think you _want_ it to be the Ice Tiger,” Viktor interrupted him. “And I agree that it might be. But we have to try to look at other possibilities.”

“Of course we will,” Chris retorted, a touch of anger in his tone. “But it _is_ possible. And if Altin’s after it, then we might actually be able to catch him in the act, and that-“

Suddenly, Chris was interrupted by another knock on the door.

“That should be Yuuri,” Viktor recalled after a moment. “Right on time.”

“And with fucking terrible timing, too,” Chris muttered.

“He might know something about this, though,” Viktor said, getting up. “Be nice, Chris.”

“Can’t I just be quiet?”

“That works, too.”

Viktor took a deep breath, before opening the door.

“Yuuri,” he said, attempting a smile and stepping aside to let him in. “Hi.”

Yuuri didn’t return his smile.

“Did something happen?” he questioned, his gaze flickering from Viktor’s face to Chris, and then back again. “Viktor?”

“Sort of,” Viktor said, carefully closing the door behind Yuuri. “We had an unexpected visitor, just now. Did you know that Otabek Altin is back in Detroit?”

Yuuri looked a little surprised, at that. But not _very_ surprised.

“I heard something along those lines, the other day,” he said. “But he hasn’t… Are you saying he came _here_?”

“Yes,” Viktor said. “We honestly don’t know what to make of it. He said he had a case for us? And he made Chris take all these incomprehensible notes, look…”

Yuuri took the notebook Chris offered him, and carefully read through the notes. He was frowning.

“Did Altin say anything else?” he wondered, his eyes still on the notebook.

“Not much,” Viktor said, thinking back. “He did say he’d come back, if he doesn’t make any progress himself, and that he’d give us more information next time.”

“He said we absolutely had to put those notes up on our board,” Chris filled in. “No idea why, but he was very clear on that.”

“Was he, now,” Yuuri muttered, his eyes still skimming across the page. “Figures.”

“You know something about this, then?” Viktor asked, his tone eager.

“No, not… Not exactly.” Yuuri was pushing the notebook back into Chris’s hands, his eyes downcast. “Altin likes to present himself as something of a mystery. He’s often cryptic. This sounds exactly like something he would do, but I… I can’t tell you what it means. I’m sorry.”

“That’s a pity,” Chris said, looking down at the notes again. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out.”

“We should probably try to, yes,” Viktor agreed. “Anyway, Yuuri. What’s new with you? Would you like some coffee?”

Yuuri shook his head carefully.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, today.”

“You… You can’t?” Viktor searched Yuuri’s expression, belatedly realizing that he looked kind of… On edge. Which was unusual, to say the least. “Why?”

“Something came up, earlier.” Yuuri’s tone was perfectly even. “And I’m not… It’s kind of urgent. I really only stopped by to tell you that.”

Viktor frowned, feeling oddly as though he was missing something.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Yuuri took another step backwards, calmly meeting Viktor’s gaze. “I’ll see you, yeah?”

“Tomorrow?” Viktor double-checked. “You’ll be here, same time?”

“Of course,” Yuuri quickly reassured him. “I always make sure to stop by, don’t I?”

“You do,” Viktor acknowledged, because he couldn’t deny that. “All right. Promise you’ll take care of yourself, until then?”

“You, too.” Yuuri smiled, just a little. “Bye for now, Viktor.”

“Bye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Quietly, Yuuri stepped out the door, and left.

After a moment, Chris cleared his throat awkwardly.

“That was… Odd, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It was.”

Viktor’s gaze was still fixed on the closed door.

“Even I know Yuuri isn’t usually that reserved.”

“Try completely unreadable,” Viktor said, sighing. “Great. One more thing to worry about.”

“You think Yuuri is in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor admitted, trying to think back on their exchange. “In trouble, or… Feeling guilty? About something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Viktor repeated. “But, I can’t… I don’t know why else he… Do you think he looked afraid?”

“Maybe a little,” Chris mused. “Which would make sense, if he was in trouble.”

“No, I mean – do you think Yuuri looked afraid of _me_?”

Chris stared at him.

“Why on earth would Yuuri be afraid of you?”

“I have no idea,” Viktor admitted, feeling more lost than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://eriskay.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey.”

Yuri looked up.

About six meters ahead of him, leaning casually against a monstrous motorbike, was Otabek.

Yuri really, _really_ tried not to smile.

“Hey yourself,” he said, approaching. “Interesting coincidence, you being here. Where I walk from school. Every day.”

“Coincidence. Big word.”

“Shut up,” Yuri muttered.

Otabek smiled. Widely.

“You all right?”

“Just fine. You?”

“I’ve been better.”

Yuri frowned.

“What’s up?”

“Long story.” Otabek held out a helmet towards Yuri. “Come for a ride, and I’ll tell you.”

Yuri hesitated.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he said, yet he couldn’t keep himself from glancing towards the motorbike again, with all it’s sleek angles and shiny black surfaces – truly, it was a thing of beauty. “Yuuri won’t like it.”

“Never stopped you before, did it?”

Yuri grimaced.

“I don’t like it. Upsetting him.”

“So don’t tell him.” Otabek held the helmet just a bit higher. “I really need to talk to you. Besides, we’ll be back in no time. Promise.”

Yuri hesitated for just a moment longer, before giving in.

He held onto Otabek tightly during the ride. Otabek seemed to be staying clear of the busiest areas, driving them a few blocks north towards the outskirts of the city. They stopped on a narrow, barely lit street next to a small park, in a quiet residence area. There was no one around, except for the two of them.

Yuri got off the bike, pulling his helmet off and shaking his hair loose. Otabek turned off the bike, before he followed.

“A back alley,” Yuri observed, both eyebrows raised. “Classy.”

“Just wanted you to feel right at home.”

“Shut up.”

Otabek smiled.

“It’s very private,” he explained, leaning against the bike. “That’s important, this time.”

“Like it wasn’t important, before.”

“It was,” Otabek agreed. “But this time, it’s crucial.”

“Why?”

“I’m leaving.”

Yuri frowned.

“You only just came back.”

“This is a visit,” Otabek clarified. “I can’t stay more than a couple of weeks, at the most. And it’ll be even longer, until I can come back again.”

“That’s… No.” Yuri glared at him, furiously. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Otabek offered. Yet he still continued. “You know I never stay in one place for too long. I’ve taken many risks, in Detroit, and unfortunately I’ve become well known here. It’s time for me to go.”

“That still sucks.” Yuri dropped his gaze, kicking his feet at the ground. “I don’t like it, when you’re not around.”

“You’ll manage,” Otabek told him, his tone unusually gentle. “Besides, I’m not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

“Better make that a proper goodbye _present_ ,” Yuri retorted. “Something ridiculously fucking expensive, please.”

“I knew you would say that,” Otabek said, grinning slightly. “What would you say to the Ice Tiger? Expensive enough?”

Yuri laughed.

“You’re sweet, but I’m afraid we’re on the wrong continent.”

“Actually, we’re not.” Otabek reached into the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a flyer. “There’s a traveling jewellery exhibit opening in just two days, over at the Institute of Arts. Treasures of Russia.”

Yuri accepted the flyer, looking down at the pictures of various gemstones, some of them more familiar than others.

“Is this… Are you serious?”

Otabek smiled.

“I’m serious.”

“They’re bringing the Ice Tiger _here_?” Yuri’s eyes were still fixed on the flyer. “And you’re… You’ll try to get it? For me?”

“Of course I will.” Otabek’s tone was gentle. “Didn’t you say it’s your favourite, in your mother’s collection?”

“It is,” Yuri admitted, but he didn’t look entirely pleased. “I just think it sounds risky.”

“The security will be top-notch,” Otabek agreed, sounding far too calm for someone who was planning a high-stakes robbery. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with much more sophisticated surveillance, before.”

“You could get caught.”

“I won’t get caught.”

“But you _could_.”

“I won’t, though.” Otabek’s tone was firm. “I promise I won’t. And I _will_ get you the Ice Tiger. No matter what.”

Yuri was still frowning, just a little. Yet he was also starting to smile.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Just try to be careful?”

“I’m always careful.”

“Yeah, _right_.”

Otabek smiled slightly.

They were both quiet for a while, after that. Yuri was glancing towards Otabek’s bike again, something contemplative in his expression. Otabek, on the other hand, was openly watching Yuri.

“So,” Yuri said after moment, his eyes still fixed on the motorcycle. “You’re not asking me to come with you.”

Otabek didn’t answer that immediately.

“I mean, it’s okay,” Yuri quickly continued. “I didn’t actually think you would.”

“But you hoped I would?”

Yuri kicked at the ground, shrugging.

“Maybe I didn’t _not_ hope.”

“Hey,” Otabek said, and there was something distinctly different in his voice. “It’s not that I don’t want you to.”

“Right.”

“No, it’s true. But more than that, I want what’s best for you. And that’s not a cross-country bike trip to God knows where, with me. It’s just not.”

“What makes you think that’s something you get to decide?” Yuri questioned, his tone sharp. “Because that’s bullshit.”

“You’re right,” Otabek agreed, and for some reason he was smiling again. “That would be bullshit. But maybe I’m not actually trying to decide for you. Maybe I just want to be completely sure that it’s something you’d really want. Maybe, I was waiting for you to ask me. Did you think of that?”

Yuri blinked, clearly startled.

Otabek crossed his arms, waiting.

“That’s not…” Yuri begun after a moment, only to start over again. “I mean, I would say yes. If you asked me to come along, I’d say yes.”

Otabek shook his head firmly.

“I’m not asking you, though. That’s exactly what I’m not doing.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Yuri muttered. “And that’s your fucking loss, by the way.”

Otabek grinned.

Then he checked his watch.

“I should take you back, soon.”

“No,” Yuri protested immediately. “Already? Why?”

“I did promise you’d be back in no time,” Otabek reminded him. “Besides, I think your Yuuri may have reason to suspect why you’re home late, today.”

“Wait, what?” Yuri asked, sharply. “Why”

“It’s probably fine,” Otabek was quick to reassure him. “But I… I might have done something a bit drastic. When he didn’t let you see me.”

 

* * *

 

There was a sound at the door.

Yuuri froze, listening intently. It _should_ be Yuri. Should have been Yuri quite some time ago.

One hours and sixteen minutes ago, to be exact.

The lock clicked, and the door was opened slowly, carefully – only to be closed abruptly. Yuuri let out a breath, then. Because thankfully, those movements were incredibly familiar.

“Yuri!” he called out, already making his way through the apartment. “You’re late!”

“I know.”

“Where were you?” Yuuri rounded a corner, coming face to face with Yuri who was kicking his shoes off, his backpack clutched in his hands. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t… Something came up.”

“Don’t do that,” Yuuri snapped, before he could stop himself. “Be honest. You went to see Altin, didn’t you?”

“No,” Yuri denied, aiming a glare at Yuuri. “I didn’t _go_ to see him. I told you I wouldn’t, and I haven’t. Even though I’ve really fucking wanted to.”

“So you’re saying that you weren’t with him, just now?” Yuuri asked, his eyes narrowing. “ _Really_?”

Yuri grimaced.

“I didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t like I’d planned it. He was waiting for me, after school.”

“Of course he was,” Yuuri muttered. “What did he want?”

“We just talked.”

“About what?”

“About nothing!” Yuri shot back, angrily this time. “It was nothing, okay? I’m here now. I won’t see him again.”

“No, you won’t,” Yuuri said decisively. “This time, you definitely won’t.”

That made Yuri pause.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and for some reason his tone was cautious. “What did he do?”

“Altin didn’t tell you?”

“Not the specifics. He said something had happened, and that you’d know more about it. It sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d handled it super well?”

“Not that well at all, no.” Yuuri sighed. “Altin went to see Viktor and Chris, today.”

That actually made Yuri look surprised.

“Why would he do that?”

“To tell them about you, that’s why.”

Yuri froze.

“Not directly,” Yuuri added. Because despite his lack of respect for Altin, he owed it to Yuri to be honest about this. “He gave them clues – clues he was certain I would understand. And he specifically asked them to pin the notes he left them on their board, clearly visible. I think he was trying to threaten me, in a roundabout way.”

“Threaten you, by going to…” Yuri frowned, looking more confused than anything. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He told Viktor that he’d come back with more information, if he didn’t make any progress himself,” Yuuri added. “So if he didn’t find you – if I still kept you away from him – he would tell Viktor…”

“No,” Yuri interrupted. “He wouldn’t.”

“It sounded a whole lot like he would.”

“Otabek _wouldn’t_ ,” Yuri repeated, his tone as fierce as ever. “He’s my friend. He wouldn’t.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Yuuri said, feeling very tired. “Either way, we’re going to have to be extra careful for a while. In case Viktor and Chris are able to make any progress, from this.”

“What do you mean?” Yuri questioned – he’d started frowning the moment Yuuri had said ‘careful’.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to love this,” Yuuri assured him dryly. “We’re staying home, for a while. As far as your school knows, you’re not feeling well, and as for everyone else we’re staying out of touch. If Viktor and Chris make anything out of this, we’re going to be far out of their reach when it happens.”

“Does that mean I can sleep in, tomorrow?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“I guess.”

Yuri grinned. “Cool.”

“You still have to do your homework,” Yuuri told him, going for stern. “And look after the cats.”

“I always take care of the cats! You know that.”

“You do, yes,” Yuuri allowed, because that much was true. “Homework, though?”

Yuri grimaced.

“Whatever.”

Yuuri smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Maybe,” Yuri said. “What about you, though?”

“What about me?”

“You and Viktor,” Yuri clarified. “You see him every day, usually.”

“It’ll be okay,” Yuuri quickly reassured him. “Viktor will have no way of finding out what’s happened, or why.”

“He’ll worry about you, though,” Yuri pointed out, his tone knowing in a way that Yuuri would have preferred it not to be. “If you don’t stop by. He won’t have any way of knowing that you’re okay.”

“That’s not… I’m sure he won’t think like that.” Yuuri forced himself to smile, just a little. “Few things would surprise me more than Viktor Nikiforov _worrying_ about me.”

 

* * *

 

Viktor was a complete and utter wreck.

When the clock had first turned three pm, and then past it, Viktor hadn’t felt too concerned. Sure, Yuuri was usually right on time, but there had been times before when he’d been a few minutes late. This was probably just one of those times. Most likely, he would walk through their door before long.

Yet the minutes kept ticking. Fifteen past three. Twenty. Half an hour. Forty-five minutes.

Right around sixteen past four, Viktor had lost all hope.

“Something terrible must have happened to him, Chris,” he insisted, clutching an empty coffee cup tightly, his wide eyes focused on the still-closed door. “Oh no. My Yuuri. Oh, what if he’s hurt? What if he’s bleeding? Oh no, what if he’s _dead_?”

“Viktor,” Chris began, his expression mostly sympathetic but also a little bit amused. “I’m sure Yuuri is _fine_. We saw him yesterday, and he was fine then, maybe a little shaken, but fine. Whatever's going on, I’m sure he knows how to handle it. In a worst case scenario he could be, I don’t know... Mildly uncomfortable.”

“Oh no,” Viktor repeated, his eyes wide. “My Yuuri. _Uncomfortable_.”

Chris sighed.

“Do you want to try and look into it?”

Viktor blinked.

“Look into…?”

“You know, make it a case.” Chris cleared his throat lightly. “The mysterious disappearance of Yuuri.”

“No,” Viktor said, his tone suddenly decisive. “Absolutely not.”

“But if you’re really that worried-”

“I’ve promised Yuuri that I won’t look into his affairs,” Viktor reminded Chris. “I don’t think he’d ever trust me again, if I did.”

“And what if we don’t hear from him at all?” Chris wondered. “If he doesn't come tomorrow, either, or the day after?”

“That’s…” Viktor paused, his brows furrowed. “That would be different.”

“So should we give it one more day, first?” Chris suggested. “Wait until tomorrow, see if he comes. And if not, then…”

“Maybe,” Viktor said, his tone hesitant. “I don’t know. Maybe we should wait even longer? Two days? A week?”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be that patient,” Chris muttered.

“I just think… We need to wait at least a bit longer.” Viktor looked back towards the door. “One more day, to start with. And then we'll consider what we should do, and when.”

“All right,” Chris agreed, shaking his head a little. “If you say so.”

That night, Viktor barely slept.

He couldn't seem to make himself relax. Instead, his mind was spinning, his thoughts an incoherent, anxious mess. He kept coming back to what had happened the last time he had seen Yuuri, how strangely Yuuri had acted. Was there something Yuuri had said, that could be a potential clue? Some detail that had seemed insignificant at the time? Something, _anything_ , that could help?

When Viktor finally fell asleep, he dreamt only of Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, with his gorgeous, breathtaking eyes that should never again be filled with fear.

The next day, about fourteen minutes after three pm, Viktor’s resolve was shaken.

“He’s not coming, is he?”

“It would seem so,” Chris agreed, his expression actually concerned as he watched Viktor. “You okay?”

“Never mind me,” Viktor said, earnestly. “We need to… Yuuri. We need to do something about Yuuri.”

“Like… Open a case?”

Viktor sighed.

“Fine. Yes. We’ll open a case.”

Chris nodded, seriously.

“Okay. I’ll get you a cup of coffee, first.”

“Thanks.” Viktor stretched his arms over his head, sighing again. “Honestly, though, I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to find out. I don’t really know that much about Yuuri. We’ve got very little to work with.”

Over by the coffee maker, Chris paused.

“Could you… Not hate me for this?”

Viktor looked over towards him, confused.

“For the coffee?”

“No. For what I’m about to tell you.” Chris took a deep breath, facing Viktor directly. “I’ve kept a file on Yuuri for the past two years.”

Viktor blinked.

“But that’s… Chris, I said you couldn’t.”

“I know you did.”

“You asked, several times,” Viktor continued, a steely edge in his voice. “And I always said no.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris offered. “For what it’s worth, I was trying to protect you. In case Yuuri would have gotten you in trouble, somehow.”

“And what if Yuuri had found out?” Viktor asked sharply. “You didn’t think about how he’d react? About the fact that he would never have trusted me again?”

“I am sorry,” Chris repeated. He was still hovering unsurely over by the coffee machine. “Do you want to take a look at it, or…?”

Viktor sighed.

“Of course I do,” he said, sounding very tired. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed in you.”

“I can live with that,” Chris said, offering Viktor a small smile. “Honestly, I expected a lot worse.”

“Yeah, well,” Viktor muttered. “You’re lucky I actually like you.”

Chris chuckled, making his way back over to hand Viktor the cup of coffee. Then he walked up to the furthest filing cabinet, opened it, and carefully pulled out a folder.

Unsurprisingly, Chris’s work had been very thorough. He had kept a detailed log of Yuuri’s visits, what they’d talked about and how long he’d stayed each time. Chris had even recovered a few scraps of paper Yuuri had thrown in their bin on his way out, mostly receipts and occasionally empty candy wrappers. The receipts were pretty nondescript in themselves, the items of purchase not incriminating in any way, but Chris had patiently looked up the location of each identifiable establishment and tracked them out on a map of Detroit.

“So based on this, I’m positive that Yuuri lived in this area, last year,” Chris explained, pointing towards an area on the map. “Or at least he spent a lot of time there. But six months ago, it might have changed. I’ve only got four receipts from this period of time, but they’re all from shops and restaurants around _this_ area. And that’s a completely new pattern.”

“Interesting,” Viktor said, leaning forwards to take a closer look at that part of the map. “That’s still a pretty big neighborhood, though.”

“It is,” Chris agreed. “But actually, I made an unexpected breakthrough only a few days ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. See these buildings right here? Those are all apartment complexes with fairly low rent. And as it turns out, only two of the landlords in the area actually allow their residents to have pets.”

“Oh, you mean… _Oh_.” Viktor nodded slowly, feeling quite impressed. “Interesting. Although I guess it’s still possible that Yuuri lies to his landlord about his cats. Or that he simply lives somewhere else.”

“That’s true. But still – if he does spend a lot of time in this area, and if he has at least _seven_ cats… Maybe, Yuuri actually lives in one of these two buildings.”

“Maybe,” Viktor agreed. “It’s definitely worth looking into, at least.”

Chris grinned.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

 

* * *

 

There was a soft knock on their door.

Yuuri froze. They weren’t expecting anyone. In fact, they had been successfully avoiding everyone for almost an entire week. Yuuri had actually started feeling rather optimistic about being able to go back to their normal routines, sometime in the near future.

Yuri came into the kitchen, his steps a bit faster than usually.

“Don’t panic,” he began, his tone alarmingly quiet. “But Viktor Nikiforov is right outside.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri repeated. Viktor, _here_? It was exactly what Yuuri had been afraid of, yet it still felt completely surreal. “How do you know it’s him?”

“I’ve met him, remember?” Yuri explained. “Long ago, but I’d know those fucking persistent blue eyes anywhere.”

“He didn’t see you?” Yuuri double-checked, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Through the peephole? No, definitely not. I was quick.”

Yuuri nodded. Took a deep breath. Quickly weighed their options.

Another knock was heard, just a bit louder than the first.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, quietly. “There’s no point in hiding the fact that I live here. If he’s outside, then he already knows that much.”

“We could just pretend no one’s home,” Yuri suggested.

Yuuri quickly shook his head.

“That’s just putting off the problem. No, I’m going to open. Anything else would draw more suspicion, not less.”

“Right,” Yuri said. He looked uncharacteristically shaken. “Should I…?”

“Your room,” Yuuri said. “And stay there. No matter what you hear, okay?”

Yuri watched him for a moment, before nodding.

“Good,” Yuuri said. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They both moved quickly, Yuri slipping into his room while Yuuri made his way to the front door. He allowed himself to pause, just briefly, to take another deep breath and arrange his expression into something fairly neutral. Then he opened.

Viktor’s expression was one of pure relief.

“Yuuri,” he breathed out, already stepping forward into Yuuri’s space. “You’re here. You’re _safe_.”

Yuuri took a step backwards, just out of Viktor’s reach.

“Hello, Viktor,” he said, managing to keep his tone calm, almost distant.

Viktor paused right on the threshold, searching Yuuri’s expression for a moment. Possibly wondering whether or not he was welcome inside. And Yuuri would have preferred to keep Viktor standing just outside of the door for the remainder of his visit, on the right side of the careful line he’d drawn between Viktor and his private affairs all those years ago.

Except that he couldn’t.

“I can’t leave this open for long,” Yuuri told Viktor, making a pointed gesture towards the hallway, where two cats were already peering curiously towards Viktor. “You’d better come in.”

Viktor’s face broke into a smile. It lit up his entire expression, bringing warmth to his already breathtaking eyes, and Yuuri was grateful that he was forced to look away from Viktor while he closed the door. Because he shouldn’t smile back. He shouldn’t.

There were more important things at stake than Yuuri’s pathetic feelings for a man who would most likely come to hate him for the rest of their live, when all of this was over.

Yuuri turned around again, his expression once more carefully arranged in anticipation of the onslaught of questions that he had no doubt would follow.

Yet to his surprise, Viktor was… Not even looking at Yuuri.

He was looking at the cats.

“Interesting,” he said, his tone brimming with curiosity. “You _do_ have cats.”

And, fuck it. Yuuri couldn’t _not_ smile, at that.

“That’s Shotgun,” he supplied, and then reached down to pet Scandal, who had stepped forward to stroke herself against Yuuri’s legs. “And this beauty right here is Scandal. She’s the youngest.”

“Interesting names,” Viktor said, the tone of his voice making it sound like a question.

Yuuri merely shrugged.

Viktor turned towards the coat hangers, then, his eyes narrowing. Yuuri followed his gaze, trying not to think too much about what Viktor might be seeing. What he could be realizing.

“You don’t live alone,” Viktor said quietly.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by, recently,” Yuuri replied, his tone quite steady, despite everything. “It’s been a busy week.”

Viktor turned towards him, again, the look in his eyes much more sober than before. Evidently, Yuuri’s attempt at deflecting hadn’t been very effective.

“You don’t… I know you don’t trust me,” Viktor said, his tone so utterly broken that it almost weakened Yuuri’s resolve. “But, if there’s someone else that you… If you’re with someone. Then I would like to know.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Yes,” Yuuri heard himself saying. “Yes, you’re right. There’s someone else.”

It wasn’t the perfect excuse, but it was something. And from the crestfallen look on Viktor’s face, it seemed like he actually bought it.

Yuuri closed his eyes, giving himself just a moment to reel in his emotions, to find his focus. He could do this. He had to do this.

Then he pushed forward.

“It’s a recent thing,” Yuuri said, opening his eyes again to face Viktor directly, his tone perfectly calm. “He’s very… Very sweet. He really understands me. I’m so happy, when I’m with him.”

Viktor nodded, slowly. He was looking towards the coat racks again, yet it didn’t look like he was really seeing them.

“So, you should probably leave,” Yuuri continued. “He’ll be home soon. And, if you’d be here, I don’t think-”

“Please,” Viktor interrupted. “You don’t have to. I understand.”

 _No_ , Yuuri wanted to say. _No, you don’t. And you never will, because I can never tell you the truth._

“I’ll go,” Viktor continued, his tone almost too quiet for Yuuri to hear. “And I don’t… I expect I won’t be seeing you?”

“No,” Yuuri said, his heart hammering in his chest. “I don’t think you will.”

“Right.” Viktor looked back towards Yuuri, one more time. “Can I just say-”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted, his tone harsh. “Viktor.”

Viktor frowned.

“Just… Just _go_ , Viktor. Please.”

“All right, then.” Viktor actually smiled, just a little. “But only because I would do anything for you. I would have given anything up, for you. My dearest Yuuri.”

“Please go,” Yuuri repeated, his voice almost breaking. “Viktor, I need you to go.”

Viktor nodded. Yet he still didn’t move.

“Be safe, Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t actually trust his voice, anymore, but he did manage a nod.

Viktor looked at him one last time, almost as if he was committing every single one of Yuuri’s features to memory.

Then he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally had the time to come back to this project again! I'm hoping not get the next chapter up more quickly than I was able to for this chapter, but I don't have a set posting schedule. However I'm still very invested in this story and I'm looking forward to telling the rest of it!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://eriskay.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVENING FOLKS THIS STORY IS BACK!!

Viktor had expected the following days to pass by slowly.

They didn’t.

Instead, it was as if time had started moving faster than usually, as if each, meaningless day without Yuuri in Viktor’s life quickly blended over into the next.

Viktor still went to work. Chris wouldn’t have let him do anything else, partly because he seemed more than a little concerned for Viktor and wanted to keep an eye on him, but also because there were actually a lot of things they needed to get done. Chris was working relentlessly on getting as much information as possible on the security at the Institute of Art, drawing up complicated charts to figure out when Altin was most likely to make his move on the Ice Tiger. Viktor… helped. Or at least he tried to. When he wasn’t busy staring at the door that his wonderful Yuuri would never again walk through, that is.

Time _still_ passed quickly.

After a lot of data gathering as well as a substantial amount of frowning at different excel sheets, Chris had decided that the Friday two weeks after the opening of Treasures of Russia would be the opportune moment for Otabek Altin to strike.

“That’s tomorrow,” Viktor said, looking at the paper Chris had placed in front of him and trying to at least feign interest. “Why then?”

“Why then,” Chris repeated, sighing deeply. “Why then, he asks. As if I haven’t been trying to explain this to you every day for the past week.”

“I guess I haven’t quite been myself.”

Chris’s expression softened.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, I _really_ think we might be able to catch Altin in the act, if we play our cards right.”

“Okay,” Viktor said. “But could you just… Explain it to me again?”

“Yes, of course,” Chris said, immediately launching into a monologue. “So, tomorrow there’s a special event at the museum, which will include discounts for families and free entry for all elementary school students, which will mean kids _everywhere._ During this commotion, Altin could easily-”

Suddenly, Viktor’s phone started ringing. Viktor glanced at the screen – unknown number. He looked back at Chris, because he was at least going to _try_ to pay attention, this time. Whoever was calling could wait.

Chris raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you get that?”

Viktor glanced at his still ringing phone, then shrugged.

“If it’s urgent, they’ll call back.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. So, you were saying?”

“Right. Okay, so, during the commotion that will no doubt be caused by the influx of twelve year olds, Altin could easily avoid being recognized by anyone, meaning he would be able to slip unnoticed into the exhibition. Now, knowing Altin, he will definitely have constructed some sort of sophisticated device that will immediately and effectively…”

Chris trailed off.

Viktor frowned.

“That will immediately and effectively do what?”

“Your phone, Viktor. It’s still ringing.”

Viktor blinked, looking back over towards his phone.

Chris was right.

“It’s been well over a minute,” Chris pointed out, and for some reason he was starting to look rather stressed.

It wasn’t even _his_ phone.

Viktor sighed, deeply, before reluctantly picking up his phone, answering the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Viktor,”_ Yuuri breathed out, causing Viktor to actually leap out of his chair. “Oh, thank God.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, helplessly. “Hi. Hello.”

_I’ve missed you. I love you._

“I need your help, Viktor.”

“Anything,” Viktor promised immediately, leaning forwards as if that would somehow bring him closer to Yuuri. “I’ll do anything, for you.”

Chris was watching Viktor with something like resignation written across his features, but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to care. _Yuuri_ was calling him. His Yuuri. Yuuri needed his help, with something.

Viktor would be more than willing to do anything. He would give up a kidney.

Heck, he’d give up _two._

“Thank you,” Yuuri was saying, yet for some reason his voice still sounded tense. “Okay, so. Otabek Altin is about to try to steal a diamond, from an exhibition at the Institute of Arts.”

Viktor blinked.

“Say that again?”

“Otabek Altin,” Yuuri repeated. “The antiquities dealer?”

“No, I mean, we actually know about Altin’s plans,” Viktor said. “Or at least we’ve guessed. Is he going for the Ice Tiger?”

Yuuri paused.

“Yes. How did you…?”

“Chris has been working overtime trying to be one step ahead of Altin,” Viktor explained. “But never mind that. What I don’t understand is, how is all this related to you?”

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri said. His tone was light. “About that.”

Viktor waited. Several moments passed.

Yuuri sighed.

“If you hate me for this,” he began, speaking slower than before, “Then I’ll understand. I don’t really expect anything else.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor couldn’t help his wide smile. “How could I possibly hate you? Really, there’s literally nothing you could do that-”

“I’ve been hiding Yuri Plisetsky for the past five years.”

Viktor fell silent.

“It was necessary,” Yuuri continued, his tone uncharacteristically determined. “Viktor, I was keeping him _safe._ Please try to understand that. There was a threat against Yuri’s life, which was why Yuri asked me to help him get far away from everyone. Somewhere he could never be found.”

“No,” Viktor said. Because he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s the truth,” Yuuri said, and there was a heaviness to his words. “I can explain more later. But right now, Viktor, I really need your help. Yuri ran off, last night.”

“Yuri ran off,” Viktor repeated, yet the words still sounded completely surreal. “He’s not dead? Yuri Plisetsky?”

“No, Viktor, Yuri is very much alive.” Yuuri sighed. “He left a note, so I know for a fact that he’s with Otabek Altin.”

“Wait. _What?”_

“They’re friends,” Yuuri said, a completely different edge in his voice. “I’ve never tried so hard to discourage anything, but it was a lost cause from the start. I think it’s the motorcycle.”

“What motorcycle?”

“Altin’s got a motorcycle, as I’m sure you’re well aware? And that stuff is right up Yuri’s alley.”

Viktor frowned.

“The Yuri Plisetsky I knew wasn’t into _motorcycles.”_

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, his tone very gentle, “The Yuri Plisetsky you knew is now seventeen years old.”

“Seventeen,” Viktor repeated, still barely able to believe it. “And he’s ran off. With Otabek Altin. On a motorcycle?”

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed. “And tomorrow, they’re planning on robbing a museum. With me so far?”

“I think so,” Viktor said, speaking slowly. “And you… Yuri was with you? All this time?”

Yuuri was quiet for a moment.

“Yes, Viktor. I helped Yuri escape. I let him stay with me.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“No. I didn’t tell you.”

“Even though you knew what this case meant to me,” Viktor said, unable to keep a harsh edge out of his voice. “What Yuri meant to me. What his family means to me.”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, and this time he continued. “And that was exactly _why,_ Viktor. Yuri’s family could never find out. That’s why I could never trust you.”

“Because I might have told Yuri’s mother?” Viktor asked, his tone ice cold. “I could have let her know that her only son is alive. How is that a bad thing?”

“Yuri’s mother doesn’t give a shit about her son, Viktor,” Yuuri shot back, his tone unexpectedly angry. “If she did, she would have actually listened to me. She would have listened to Yuri. And she would have kept her brother Alexei far away from Yuri.”

“Her brother Alexei – what are you talking about? Why would Irina want to keep Alexei away?”

“Look, there’s too much to explain right now,” Yuuri said irritably. “We can talk about how to deal with Yuri’s mother and her good for nothing brother after we’ve actually gotten Yuri back.”

“Irina Plisetsky is dead, Yuuri.”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“Irina is… _What?_ When?”

“She passed away about a month ago. I got a letter about it, right after. There’s been so much going on since then, I don’t think I’ve had time to even mention it.”

“So then, the Plisetsky family fortune…?”

 _“That’s_ your first thought?” Viktor questioned harshly.

“It would change everything for Yuri,” Yuuri retorted, his tone completely unapologetic. “Which is all I care about.”

“The family fortune will go to Yuri, if that’s what you’re asking,” Viktor explained reluctantly. “As long as Yuri actually shows up to sign the necessary paperwork within six months after Irina’s death, he will inherit everything.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, pausing before continuing. “Well. That really changes things.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Viktor said. “Imagine if I had known that Yuri was alive, and how to contact him, when I’d gotten that letter. Now _that_ would have really changed things.”

“Viktor, please,” Yuri said. He sounded tired. “We have to try to focus on the most urgent problem, right now. We have to get Yuri back.”

“Yes, we certainly do,” Viktor agreed. “But can I ask you something, first?”

“If you must.”

“Why did you contact me, for help? You’ve never trusted me before. Why now?”

“Because, I…” Yuuri paused briefly, before continuing. “I thought you might know what to do, given the circumstances. I knew you’d been keeping tabs on Altin. And you’ve always been on Yuri’s side, despite everything.”

“Despite everything,” Viktor repeated, his tone cold. “See, that offends me.”

“I can see why it would,” Yuuri said calmly. “But I won’t take it back. Yuri’s mother was _vile,_ Viktor. I don’t regret anything I’ve done to keep her away from him.”

“So you don’t even regret keeping the truth from Nikolai Plisetsky?” Viktor countered. “An old man with a fragile heart who has spent the past five years wondering whether or not he will ever see his only grandson again.”

Yuuri sighed.

“That’s a very low blow, Viktor.”

“I know,” Viktor shot back. “I guess we’re playing dirty, now.”

“Look,” Yuuri said, his voice steely. “Will you help me, or not?”

“I will,” Viktor agreed. Because really, what choice did he have? What choice did either of them have? “For Yuri’s sake, I will. You and I can sort out our differences later.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said. He sounded somewhat relieved. “Should I… What should we do?”

“Well,” Viktor said, thinking. “I suppose we might as well go ahead with Chris’s plan.”

“Which is?”

“Catch Otabek Altin in the act, tomorrow night,” Viktor explained. “Although I suppose it’s been expanded to catch Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky, preferably without Yuri ending up in jail.”

“Knowing Chris, I suppose the actual plan is a lot better than you’re making it sound?”

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Viktor said, almost smiling. “And yes, it is. I can send you all the details, if you like?”

“Please do. I’ll text you my email.”

“Your email?” Viktor repeated, surprised. “Really? You’d trust me with that?”

“I mean, you already have my number, now,” Yuuri pointed out. “In for a penny, and all that.”

“Right,” Viktor said, blinking. “Okay, so. I guess I’ll email you?”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know if I find out anything on this end. I’m going to make some calls, see if someone’s heard something.”

“Who will you call?”

“Several people,” Yuuri said shortly. “I’ll talk to you later, Viktor. Text me if anything happens.”

The call disconnected.

Slowly, Viktor sat back down onto his chair.

Chris was staring at him with the strangest, most confused expression on his face.

“So,” Viktor said, trying desperately to recollect himself. “There’s been an interesting development on the Altin case.”

* * *

The following day, two blocks away from the Institute of Arts, four men met up outside of a corner coffee shop.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Phichit said, smiling brightly. “Chris and Viktor, right? What an absolute pleasure to finally meet you two.”

“Uh, hi?” Chris said, glancing from Phichit to Yuuri. “I thought it’d only be the three of us.”

“This is Phichit Changlek,” Yuuri explained. “I figured we could use some backup.”

“Right,” Chris said, looking curiously towards Phichit. “So, how exactly do you two know each other?”

“That’s a story for another time, I think,” Yuuri said quickly. “Is everything ready?”

“I think so,” Chris confirmed. “The cameras are all set up, and we’ve tipped off security. Now we’ve just got to wait.”

“Ah, a classic stakeout. How thrilling!” Phichit clapped his hands excitedly. “Should we all get into position, then?”

“Sure,” Chris agreed. “So, me and Viktor will go-”

“Actually, Chris,” Phichit interrupted, his tone for some reason very pleasant. “I think it might be better if you and I pair up for this.”

“Really,” Chris said, his tone unimpressed as he looked from Phichit to Yuuri, and then over towards Viktor. “And why is that?”

“Well, I was thinking that we could have a chat about a certain Michele Crispino, while we wait.” Phichit smiled sweetly. “He’s an old friend of mine. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Chris’s eyes widened.

“Crispino… As in the long lost Crispino sibling? What could you possibly know about that?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m an endless source of knowledge on that particular subject,” Phichit told him, grinning. “And it seems like we’ve got a few hours to kill, anyway, so we might as well make the most of it. What do you say?”

For some reason, Yuuri was glaring towards Phichit.

“Well,” Chris said, looking almost flustered. “I don’t see why not. What do you say, Viktor?”

“Oh, I’m sure Viktor wouldn’t mind going with Yuuri,” Phichit cut in, his grin widening. “And I can assure you that Yuuri _definitely_ doesn’t mind.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri hissed, his expression a mix between angry and apprehensive. “What are you doing?”

“See? He doesn’t mind!” Phichit exclaimed cheerfully, completely ignoring Yuuri. “Viktor? What do you say?”

Viktor, who had been watching Yuuri intently during the whole conversation, merely shrugged.

“It’s fine either way,” he said quietly, exchanging a quick glance with Chris. “Let’s just get this done.”

“Excellent!” Phichit looked outrageously pleased with himself. “Then let’s get this show on the road!”

***

Watching the entrance to a museum from a parked rental car for over four hours was, unsurprisingly, incredibly dull.

At least they had a large thermos of coffee. Yuuri was currently sipping his third cup, trying his best to stay focused and actually watch the entrance each and every moment. He hadn’t exactly gotten a good night’s sleep, the night before.

Viktor, on the other hand, seemed almost unfairly alert. He was staring at the museum entrance with a sharp look in his eyes. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d even seen Viktor blink.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Yuuri asked, before he remembered that the last thing he wanted to do was start a conversation.

Viktor turned to look at him very briefly, before his attention was back on the museum.

“It happens, in this line of work,” he replied shortly. “Being a private investigator is often a lot less exciting than people might think.”

“I suppose you have to be really persistent?” Yuuri guessed. “Maybe that’s why it suits you so well.”

Viktor glanced at Yuuri again.

“You think it suits me?”

“Sure,” Yuuri admitted. “You’re really good at it.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Viktor muttered, reaching for his own cup of coffee. “I had you right under my nose all these years, but for some reason I still couldn’t put two and two together.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say to that, if he should apologize again or try to explain himself better. Thankfully, Viktor didn’t seem to expect any response at all.

“When did you first meet Otabek Altin?” he asked instead, his eyes still on the museum entrance.

“About four years ago, now. I was working on something and realized I needed a real expert on jewellery and fine art. Phichit introduced us.”

“And Altin helped you, just like that?”

“We helped each other,” Yuuri corrected him. “I was actually really worried about Otabek, at the time. He was still so young.”

“How old was he?”

“Seventeen.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Viktor exclaimed, actually turning to look at Yuuri. “But he’s been a known black market dealer for years. How old is he now?”

“Around twenty, I think?” Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know much about how things began for him. But he’s been supporting himself since he was about fourteen.”

“That’s insane,” Viktor muttered, his eyes back on the museum entrance. “Now I’m worried about Altin, too. He’s practically a child.”

“Hey, twenty isn’t all that young,” Yuuri disagreed. “I was just nineteen when I first came to Detroit, with Yuri. And things worked out fine for us.”

Viktor turned to look at him again. His expression had softened slightly.

“You were nineteen?”

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed, even though he was a bit unsure of whether or not he had just revealed too much, about himself. “I was.”

“And Yuuri was twelve.”

“As you well know, yes.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment.

“That must have been very difficult.”

“The difficult part was the fact that we were literally running for our lives, those first couple of years,” Yuuri pointed out cheerfully. “Everything else felt comparatively easy.”

“See, that’s the part that I still don’t understand,” Viktor said, his voice sounding very tired. “Yuuri could you… Will you finally tell me what actually happened, back then?”

“I can try,” Yuuri offered. “But the first thing you need to know is, we don’t have proof. Any proof. If we did, we could’ve actually done something about all this, other than hide indefinitely.”

“What is it that you don’t have proof of?”

“That Alexei was trying to kill Yuri,” Yuuri explained. “That’s why we left.”

“Alexei Plisetsky?” Viktor asked, sounding very surprised. “But I’ve always found him so… Kind. And warm. He was completely devastated, when Yuri first went missing.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was,” Yuuri muttered. “But I’ll have you know that I never heard him say one nice thing to Yuri, when no one else was around. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Wait,” Viktor said. “You’ve met Alexei? Really?”

“Yes. You see, I was working for the Plisetsky family, back when Yuri first went missing.”

“You were _what?”_ Viktor exclaimed, his expression one of complete shock.

Yuuri smiled slightly.

“I was a college student in Moscow at the time, so it was just a part time position. Mostly, I looked after Yuri when his mother was unable to, which was almost always when Yuri wasn’t in school.”

“But I’ve found no records of this,” Viktor said, his tone very doubtful. “And believe me – I’ve looked at records. Lots of records. Practically every record of anything concerning the Plisetsky family at that time. Staff records, definitely. And you aren’t in them.”

“Well, I wasn’t actually an employee as such, since the payment was in the form of room and board,” Yuuri explained. “So there was no employment contract, and no payment transactions or anything like that. Convenient for me, I guess?”

“Unbelievable,” Viktor muttered. “All these years… _Unbelievable.”_

“Well, anyway.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “It all really started when me and Yuri overheard Alexei talking to someone on the phone about his plans to have Yuri murdered. He was going to poison Yuri, and if that didn’t work out he’d hire a hitman. He had already made detailed plans for how he was going to invest the family fortune, after Irina inevitably died from her illness.”

“Okay, I can see how that would be a concern,” Viktor agreed. “And you’re sure that Alexei wasn’t just joking?”

“You should have heard the tone of his voice,” Yuuri said quietly. “I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. That same night, both me and Yuri tried to talk to Yuri’s mother, but she wouldn’t listen. She never listened to Yuri at all, and apparently she wasn’t going to listen to me, either. So Yuri begged me to take him away, to hide him somewhere safe. And I agreed.”

“But didn’t anyone suspect you?” Viktor wondered, his brows furrowed. “When Yuri first disappeared, I mean. If you, too, were nowhere to be found.”

Yuuri smiled.

“For the first three months, Yuri hadn’t disappeared at all.”

“... What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I just said. Yuri was right where he was supposed to be, in his room. He didn’t show up at school, so they called home, and the maid who answered the call asked me where Yuri was. I told her Yuri had gone to school, just like always. Of course, noone was going to look for Yuri in his room when they knew for a fact that he wasn’t there.”

“But someone must have examined that room,” Viktor said, his tone urgent. “The police, they got on the case quite early, didn’t they? They must have looked inside his room.”

“They sure did,” Yuuri said, nodding. “They came by a couple of times, to search for clues. Each time, Yuri simply hung out in my room until they had left. No one seemed to suspect me at all, I was pretty well liked in the household and everyone knew that I was very fond of Yuri. So they never had any reason to take a look in my room.”

“Right,” Viktor said, shaking his head in disbelief. “But the two of you still left Yuri’s home, eventually?”

“We did, yes. After two and a half months had passed, Yuri’s mother decided that I was no longer needed in the household, since I had mostly taken care of Yuri anyway. So I was let go of, and me and Yuri left shortly after.”

“That’s…” Viktor began, only to start over. “I’m not sure if I should laugh or not, but that’s crazy.”

“If I’m honest, we weren’t actually sure if it’d even work,” Yuuri told him, smiling sheepishly. “We were pretty panicked, in the beginning, and there wasn’t a lot of time to think of a plan. This was the best we could come up with on short notice.”

“Well, it obviously worked,” Viktor said, his tone rather impressed. “And then you came to Detroit?”

“Eventually, yes. Phichit had settled here, and he was able to help us travel discreetly. I helped him sort out a few things, in return, and then business took off from there.”

“Business,” Viktor repeated, shaking his head a little. “But you didn’t have any background in… _That_ kind of business?”

“Well,” Yuuri said, coughing lightly. “I might have. My family has a small family business in Japan. Small, but lucrative.”

“So you’re from Japan?”

“Something like that. I can’t really… Hey. Do you see that?”

Viktor, who had been watching Yuuri intently since somewhere during the middle of their conversation, quickly looked back towards the museum entrance.

There, in plain sight, was Otabek Altin, leaving the museum with his hands in his pockets.

Both Yuuri and Viktor just stared at him for a moment.

“What do we do?” Yuuri breathed out. “Do we drive after him? Or go on foot? Or-”

“We watch for a second,” Viktor interrupted, his voice low. “See what he’s doing. Where he’s going.”

Otabek Altin looked very relaxed as he strolled past their car, then turned onto a narrow street next to the museum.

“Okay,” Viktor said. “Now we follow him. On foot.”

Yuuri was already halfway out of the car.

They quickly jogged over to where Altin had disappeared, slowing down right before they turned the corner.

Otabek was leaning against the wall a few meters ahead. At the other end of the street, Chris and Phichit were hurrying forwards.

“Hey!” Phichit called. “It’s over, Altin. Hand over the Ice Tiger, or else!”

“See, no, we don’t say things like that,” Chris hissed. “Actually, how about you don’t talk at all for the rest of this mission. Okay?”

“Oh, we’re on a mission? Cool! Is this what it feels like to be one of the good guys?”

Otabek Altin was smiling.

“Yuuri, Phichit,” he said, tipping his head at each of them and pointedly ignoring Chris and Viktor. “Good to see you both again.”

“Cut the crap, Altin,” Yuuri snapped. “Where’s Yuri?”

“Yuri wasn’t in the mood for company,” Altin explained, his tone actually somewhat apologetic. “But I can pass along a message, if you want?”

“We have urgent business with Yuri,” Yuuri said, his tone sharp. “Very, _very_ urgent. It’s about his family.”

“Is that so,” Altin said, raising an eyebrow. “And it really can’t wait?”

“No,” Viktor said firmly. “This is something that I need to tell Yuri as soon as possible. It’s something he needs to know.”

Altin nodded slowly.

“Then I guess we’ll have to do something about that,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Give me one second.”

He clicked something on his phone and brought it to his ear.

“Yuri? No, everything’s fine. Hold one second, okay?”

Then he held the phone out towards Viktor.

“You’re on, detective.”

Carefully, Viktor took the phone from Altin.

“... Hello?”

“Who is this?” Yuri snapped, his tone sharp. “What’s going on? Where’s Beka?”

Viktor took a deep breath.

“My name is Viktor Nikiforov,” he said, speaking slowly. “Is this Yuri Plisetsky?”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” Yuri muttered. “No point in denying it now, is it? What the fuck is going on?”

“I need to tell you something very important, Yuri,” Viktor said, managing to keep his voice almost steady. “It’s something very serious, about your family. About your mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... So I know I said in my last update of this fic that I was hoping to get the next chapter done at least a little bit quicker than before. Fast forward five months (spoiler: five months is not quicker than before) and here we are? But hey, here we are!!! I updated this!! And I'm honestly so so super excited to be working on this story again!!!!!
> 
> I'm going to start working the next chapter this coming week and, well, I guess we'll just have to see when I finish. But I will say that I am still very committed to writing this story, and really excited to be so close to the end! Thank you so much to those of you who have followed this story before, and also those of you who have started reading this in my absence during this fall. All of your support has definitely reminded me that I'm not the only one who's still excited about this fic. ♥♥♥
> 
> You can find me [here](http://eriskay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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